


what's a girl to do, a guy to do

by 131 (mechuri)



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys in Skirts, Canon Compliant, Feminization, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25432687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechuri/pseuds/131
Summary: hanbin knows that he looks like a man in a dress, even with the wig - obviously, that’s the entire point of this - and it makes something hot and confusing build in his stomach.
Relationships: Kim Hanbin | B.I/Kim Jiwon | Bobby
Comments: 14
Kudos: 99





	what's a girl to do, a guy to do

**Author's Note:**

> title from heather by sorry
> 
> reference videos:
> 
> up & down ([x](https://youtu.be/FXFXAVsZ-w8?t=54))  
> japan fanmeet ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2KdanNTSPLI&feature=youtu.be&t=13))([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=esm_ncE4iLM))  
> whatever this is ([x](https://twitter.com/i/status/794773001212338176))
> 
> i owe my life to anni and spence

they have to perform it so many times that it’s like going through the motions. wriggle into the dress that still smells like who knows how many nights of sweat, argue over who gets the best wig, let the coordis paint your lips just a little more red than usual.

at first there was the hilarity of it all, then resignation, then the realisation that it was going to be on the setlist for more than just a month. they still play it up for the fans the same way, and if they have to overcompensate by going a little crazy at least the crowd seems to enjoy it.

hanbin doesn’t know if he hates it the right way, though. backstage the others cheer when they get changed back into jeans. hanbin half-heartedly wipes the lipstick off, and wonders if anyone else has noticed just how hard he fights to avoid the ugliest wigs of the selection.

he doesn’t put his all into the dance, and when it’s his part he more often than not just skips to the side of the stage and waves. he’ll join in when they get silly, of course, and has no qualms about sticking his head up jinhwan’s skirt to annoy him, but that’s different.

bobby hates it in the right way. hanbin watches bobby on stage and every part of his body language screams of wanting to be anywhere but here. he skimps on the choreo even more so than hanbin does, stands awkwardly in the back as soon as his opening part is over, and he’s the first to yank his wig off once it’s over and shove his whole head under the tap to clean the sweat and makeup off.

bobby avoids it all so much that when he does do it right, when he does rest his arms on hanbin’s waist or let hanbin grab him around the neck, hanbin notices it all the more. hanbin nearly has a heart attack the first time bobby smacks his ass on stage and it takes four more concerts for him to stop expecting it to happen again.

it doesn’t happen again. the most he gets bobby stealing his wig, or averting his eyes when hanbin goes a little too far.

which - isn’t this all too far? hanbin feigns ignorance, to himself and to the others, and does not think about it.

seven months is a long time, though.

hot in july, hotter still in bangkok, hanbin almost can’t pull the dress up over how sweaty he already is. long hair makes it worse, but he asks the stylist to tie it up and the single plait is more manageable at least.

maybe it’s because it’s been over a month since they last performed it, but hanbin plays into it more than usual. he chooses bobby as his target knowing he’s the least willing, grabbing him and trying to dance up on him and it’s funny until bobby pushes him away with a hand on hanbin’s thigh - through the dress, and the safety shorts, but it burns all the same.

he doesn’t show it, of course. can’t let the fans know, can’t let bobby know, and keeps dancing the same way with the biggest grin he has until bobby starts to look pissed off and pushes hanbin away with hands on his shoulders instead.

hanbin is nothing if not professional.

he keeps dancing, grateful he doesn’t have to spit any hair out of his mouth this time, and really almost loses his resolve when bobby hits his ass twice in quick succession.

hanbin turns to stare (as if he could do anything else) but bobby is acting so normal, like always, so hanbin whoops into his mic and thinks _one more minute_.

he doesn’t do anything crazy when it’s his turn, halfheartedly skipping and spinning and then making his way back to the main stage, except someone is holding onto his hair and he almost trips.

by the time he’s grabbed onto the wig and turned around, bobby has lost his own wig, and seeing him without it in the dress still is usually funny. they all do it almost every time because it’s funny, it is, but right now hanbin thinks bobby looks like a man in a dress.

hanbin knows that he himself looks like a man in a dress, even with the wig - obviously, that’s the entire point of this - and it makes something hot and confusing build in his stomach so he stops trying to fix his hair and pulls the wig off, waving it around and smiling and laughing and wanting to be off stage, like, yesterday.

it’s so obvious. he doesn’t mean for it to be obvious but it must be, the way he gets changed a metre away from the others and shoves the dress down the side of the dressing room couch, but he doesn’t care. fuelled by adrenaline and the four minutes they have to escape the pleather and put on normal stage outfits again, hanbin feels like he’s shoplifting and then goes back out to do eleven more songs until his throat is raw.

“good job,” jinhwan is saying as they traipse back to the dressing rooms after the encore. hanbin echoes him but knows the others don’t expect him to be leader right now. all anyone can think about at times like these is a shower and a hotel bed.

this was the only thai date, eight days between tonight and the next one but they have a live tv show tomorrow night, and hanbin pretends to be tying his shoelace on the floor so he can sneak the dress from where it’s crumpled up against the wall into his backpack. he knows there are spares so he doesn’t feel too guilty, and once they’re out of the venue he’s in the clear.

hanbin pulls rank in the hotel lobby and makes sure he gets one of the single rooms. sometimes he relents, but not tonight. he shuts the door behind himself, sits down on the bed, and eyes his backpack where he’d dropped it on the floor.

this is weird. definitely weird. hanbin unzips the bag anyway, and cringes at how the usual pleats of the dress skirt have been ruined by his carelessness. there’s no iron in the hotel room, though, and he doesn’t even know if you can iron whatever the hell this is made of, so he stares at it sadly for another moment and then stands up.

when he holds it up in front of himself it looks far too small, comically, like it would never fit. it does, though, and the thought of how the material stretches across his stomach has hanbin scrambling to take off his shirt and jeans suddenly.

he has briefs on, tight so they fit under the safety shorts. hanbin realises he didn’t steal a pair of those, though, and a shiver runs through him when he gets the dress pulled up to his waist and the hem brushes against the bare skin of his thighs.

getting the top part on is never easy, and he thinks he really should have showered before this, but he wrangles it up and on and then stands, alone in the middle of the hotel room, feeling like any second someone will realise what he’s done and come to get him for it.

he waits for two minutes, motionless as if moving would alert someone to what he’s done. when no knock on the door comes, though, he lets himself relax.

hanbin treads over to the door and double-checks that it’s locked from the inside. he folds his jeans and shirt and puts them over the armchair by the window.

he’s still wearing socks and looks down and realises they’re the same ones from the exid stage, white and up past his ankles. hanbin feels his toes curl a little at the realisation, and at this point it feels pointless to keep ignoring that he’s hard under the dress.

he doesn’t know what to _do_ about it, though, and ends up sitting on the edge of the bed just because it feels less stupid than standing up.

hanbin should go to sleep.

their manager said they’d have to wake up at six for an early flight - but he can sleep on the plane, and he’s not going to pack the dress into his luggage so it’s now or never, really.

it’s just as he decides this, of course, that someone does knock on the door.

hanbin freezes, wastes precious time panicking, and when bobby knocks again and shouts, “hey, bin!” far too loud in the corridor, hanbin springs into action.

t-shirt on over the dress, fuck, and he can’t get his jeans back on over the skirt of it and now the arms of his shirt mean he can’t take the dress off, either, and bobby is still making a racket so hanbin flings his suitcase open and grabs a pair of basketball shorts. he gets them up over his hips and tucks the dress in and down, hoping the baggy t-shirt will hide the way the material is scrunched up around the tops of his legs.

“what the hell, hanbin, what are you even doing in there-” bobby is still talking when hanbin flings the door open, belatedly realising he must look really strange panting and sweaty and saying nothing.

bobby squints at hanbin, then laughs and says, “nevermind, i get it!”

“i- what! no, i wasn’t,” hanbin denies instinctively even though it’s a much better assumption than what he was actually doing, and when bobby still doesn’t shut up hanbin grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the room.

“hyung, it’s late. we’ll get in shit if you make that much noise,” hanbin scolds, letting his leader-voice out to cover up his panic.

“manager is up the other end, he won’t even hear,” bobby dismisses it easy as ever, and wanders away to sit down on the bed with a bounce. “why are you awake? i mean, i knew you would be but you shouldn’t be.”

hanbin, standing with his arms held awkwardly at his sides in an attempt to keep his shirt from wrinkling and revealing everything, says, “uhhh…”

“and you haven’t even showered?!” bobby realises, and jumps back up to run a hand through hanbin’s hair and grimace at the hairspray.

he lets his hand fall heavy on hanbin’s shoulder and starts to steer him towards the en suite, and hanbin has totally gotten away with this and he can leave the dress in the trash can under the sink and never, ever think about this again.

“-you’re wearing a vest under your shirt? why did you put on two tops before even washing up, seriously-” bobby laughs, and does what he loves to do to the others because it makes them squirm and shoves his arm through the neck of hanbin’s shirt and makes to tickle his ribs except it’s not skin he’s touching.

they pause like that, bobby confused and hanbin mortified.

bobby very slowly pulls his hand away.

hanbin half-expects him to run screaming from the room, but he just nudges hanbin’s shoulder until they’re facing each other and squints at him, then says, “i thought i saw you taking something in the dressing room.”

there’s no way to respond to that. hanbin shrugs.

“are you, like… d’ya think you’re a woman, or what?” bobby asks, though, and there’s definitely a response to that.

“no!” _what the fuck_. “what the fuck!”

“you stole a dress!” bobby points out, like that means hanbin _must_ not be a man, and there’s so much shame building in hanbin’s stomach he thinks he might choke on it.

“well, i- it’s pretty,” hanbin says, accidentally earnest.

bobby raises an eyebrow and snorts, “yeah, it looks great under your pyjamas.”

“i put them on because you knocked, you ass,” hanbin spits. all of the blood in his body is in his cheeks, and he can’t feel his fingers. bobby is still in the room. why is bobby still in the room? why hasn’t he _left_ yet?

“looks stupid,” bobby comments like he didn’t even hear hanbin speak.

he takes a step towards hanbin, and hanbin takes a step backwards. he’s not afraid, not of bobby, but he’s got enough adrenaline right now that he feels like he could do a whole concert all over again and bobby moving closer has hanbin moving away on instinct until his spine hits the wall.

a smile grows on bobby’s face when he realises he has hanbin cornered, though, and that is a little scary.

“what?” hanbin asks.

he had tried to use his leader voice but it comes out hoarse and quiet. bobby’s smile gets wider.

“why don’t you take them off?”

hanbin manages a squeak this time, feels like he’s watching this happen from outside his body as bobby’s hands come up to rest on the waistband of hanbin’s shorts. hanbin goes to stop him but can’t, can’t bring himself to touch bobby right now when he’s pressed up against the wall wearing a dress and it’s way past three am and he’s going to hyperventilate himself to an early death.

so bobby pulls the shorts down, and they pool around hanbin’s ankles, and bobby takes a step back and says, “there. now you look like a girl.”

hanbin’s head jerks down so fast his neck clicks. he can’t explain the feeling he gets when he realises bobby is lying to him. it is better, though, than the dress alone. the t-shirt over the top makes it look like he’s wearing a skirt, like it’s a real outfit and not the same as the cheap things they wear on stage to get laughed at in.

he kicks the shorts away so they aren’t tangled around his feet. the white socks match his shirt.

“go away,” hanbin grits out.

“why?” bobby says, and he’s still laughing and it only serves to piss hanbin off even more. “you need some alone time?”

hanbin hasn’t been able to look bobby in the eye this entire time but now he does, fuming, and finally pushes off from the wall just to shove bobby towards the door.

he’s still _laughing_ , doesn’t stop even when hanbin pushes too hard and bobby almost trips over hanbin’s backpack still lying in the middle of the floor.

only when hanbin yanks the door open does bobby stop, though he’s grinning when he says, “aw, bin, you don’t have to kick me out.”

hanbin says, “it’s late,” and hopes no one walks past and sees him like this. “piss off and go to sleep.”

one more shove and bobby trips again, this time on his own shoelaces, and is standing out in the corridor. his eyes are twinkling and he pouts and says, “but you look so pretty-”

hanbin slams the door in his face and locks it again for good measure, and then leans against it because he’s scared his knees will give out.

maybe bobby didn’t notice. maybe the material of the shirt and the dress hid it. hanbin hopes so. he’s been hard again since bobby touched his hips, dizzy as soon as he heard bobby call him a _girl_ , and he doesn’t even wait to hear if bobby has walked away or not before grabbing himself through the skirt of the dress.

one touch has hanbin’s head falling back, hitting the door with a dull thunk. he goes to shove his hand in his underwear and realises he can’t and has to instead slide his hand up the skirt of the dress, and something about that is so hot that he whines audibly.

when he looks down he can’t see his hand, can only see rumpled fabric and the tips of his toes still in those white socks.

his fingers had been reaching for his waistband but he stops, instead lets his hand lie flat on top of his cock and presses up into it - god, there’s a wet spot now on the fabric of his briefs and when it brushes the head of his cock he thinks he’s going to cry.

hanbin grinds into his own hand as best he can with his legs still shaking. he feels feverish, weak and desperate, and bobby was lying this time, too, but he said hanbin was pretty and now that he’s thinking about it it echoes in his head on repeat.

does bobby think hanbin looks pretty on stage? when he has the wig, and the makeup, does he look pretty?

when bobby slaps hanbin’s ass on stage - and hanbin’s breath comes even harder at that memory - is it because he looks stupid or pretty?

he wants so badly to jerk off properly but just this feels so good, even if he’ll regret it in the morning when he’s oversensitive from the chafing. he thinks about bobby calling him pretty again but meaning it, thinks about bobby getting him up against the wall again but this time it’s his hand between hanbin’s thighs under the dress fucking him like he’s a girl and hanbin makes a noise far too loud for whatever time it even is now and comes in his pants.

hanbin gets one hour of restless sleep that night, gets two more on the plane, and then drinks three energy drinks before recording and hopes his dancing is more sharp than just jittery.

he and bobby don’t talk.

they perform up & down three more times. hanbin acts normal, he thinks, and he doesn’t take anything else that doesn’t belong to him.

the last time the lights go down and they run off to get ready for the next song, bobby says, “i hope i never wear another dress for the rest of my life.” the others echo the sentiment. hanbin says nothing.

and five months later he has them down the han river with a suitcase full of wigs and women’s clothes, and off-camera they’ve all threatened him with death at least once. it’s just fun, for the fans as always, so they shut up eventually and keep the complaining to a minimum.

hanbin was the one to plan this, though, and he almost screams when bobby comes walking down the steps in a blue skirt and a perfect wig.

“i didn’t know it would be this bad,” he says to bobby, and bobby smiles and waves it off and hanbin knows what he’s thinking about, just knows.

bobby in that outfit is - bad? strange? - off-putting but they’re shooting and hanbin has to monitor every scene so it’s fine. strangely, though, hanbin almost loses it when bobby comes back for the second time in his own clothes again. maybe it’s the contrast, or maybe it’s the way bobby’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows; hanbin can’t look at him for a solid hour.

by the end of the day hanbin has almost entirely lost his voice. he’s tired, and doesn’t know why he thought this would be a good idea at all. he’s jealous of the rest of them yet at the same time relieved.

jinhwan walks around the house in his costume, waiting for the second take, and from behind he looks like he could really be a woman. hanbin imagines his own face with long hair framing it - feels stupid - shouts “cut” extra loud to shake himself out of his thoughts.

they only shoot the kitchen scene twice (because hanbin might throw up if they do a third) and then they’re getting changed again and heading back out for, thankfully, an easy final shot.

the crew say they’ll pack up the camera equipment and hanbin offers to stay behind and help but it must be obvious that he’s dead on his feet because he gets a pat on the shoulder and told to go home for the night. just as well, too, because he falls into bed and passes out in seconds, and his dreams are full of the word _pretty_.

hanbin’s jealousy comes back to bite him, because of course it does. karma, and all that. august in japan and he’s walking on stage wearing thigh high stockings and a schoolgirl skirt and a sweatervest with a little bow at the collar. everyone screams even though he’s shuffling and trying to tug the skirt down as low as it can go and there’s no way it looks good.

“cute!” the mc calls out into his microphone - hanbin feels himself go red under layers of bb cream and crouches down to hide his face out of embarrassment.

the shrieking gets louder, though, and it hits him that he’s wearing a skirt and he’s not got safety shorts on and everyone in the crowd can see his legs above the stockings, probably even his underwear, and he stumbles when he stands back up and thinks dying would be easier than having to live with the memory of this day.

yunhyeong, jinhwan, and chanwoo are all wearing skirts, too, but they have jeans on underneath and aren’t phased. hanbin thinks this is a hundred times worse than having to dance to exid on stage: the lights are too bright, he can’t hide his face behind a wig, and he doesn’t even know the choreography for this blackpink song.

doing this without the socks would probably be less painful. bare legs are fine, nothing new, but these- the material is almost sheer, and hanbin can feel it as it slips down his leg every time he moves. they’re soft. they’d felt soft to the touch when he’d had to put them on backstage. he’d seen his legs in the mirror in the dressing room and thought, “am i really that skinny?”

the four of them muddle through the dance for the chorus and hanbin can’t stop grinning, the most nervous smile of his life.

as soon as they stop dancing he spins to face the others who were spared this torture, sat on their stools cackling at his misfortune, because even their laughter is easier to stomach than the screams of the crowd.

he’s holding the skirt between his legs as if he could turn it into a pair of shorts through sheer willpower: it makes it ride up in the back and his legs are so out in the open but holding onto the material makes him feel less exposed even so.

the mc says something, hanbin has no idea what, but jinhwan starts to walk towards the back of the stage and hanbin takes that as his cue to run away and get back into his jeans before he collapses.

the rest of the fanmeet passes without incident, and hanbin thinks compartmentalising must be one of his top three skills now considering how much of it he’s been doing. it doesn’t matter that ten minutes ago he was doing that, because now he isn’t and he isn’t thinking about it. at all. he’s not.

it’s normal, really. they play around and laugh and joke as usual, and when they say goodbye to the crowd hanbin feels the same twinge of sadness he always does.

leaving is the same as usual, too: chaotic, and hanbin has to keep redoing his headcount because everyone keeps disappearing to the toilet without saying anything, but they make it to the van and then the hotel they’re in for the night just fine.

hanbin considers calling the single room for tonight, but before he can say anything bobby is grabbing two keycards from the manager’s hand and saying, “me and hanbinnie are sharing.”

he slings an arm around hanbin’s shoulders and it probably looks casual, but hanbin feels it like a lead weight.

in the elevator hanbin hisses, “what are you doing?” in bobby’s ear and gets ignored.

yunhyeong gives them both a curious look, and hanbin is thinking of begging someone to just let him sleep in their room instead, but then donghyuk is showing yunhyeong something on his phone and no one is looking at hanbin anymore and bobby drags him out of the lift when it opens and straight to their room without a word.

he gets pushed onto the twin bed closest to the door, and bobby starts rummaging around in his bag noisily.

“what are you _doing_?” hanbin says again.

bobby pulls a plaid skirt out. in his other hand, hanbin can see even though he’s trying to hide it behind his back, are the stockings.

“oh. hyung,” hanbin breathes out. he doesn’t know what’s happening.

bobby had looked kind of nervous, interestingly, but hanbin’s reaction brings a smirk out.

“do you want them?”

hanbin lies, “no.”

“but i got them for you,” bobby says, so exaggeratedly sad that hanbin rolls his eyes.

“you stole them,” he counters, and has to keep consciously looking back up at bobby’s face so that he won’t be staring at the skirt so obviously.

“and you stole that dress.”

“that was different.”

the dress was nowhere near as nice as this skirt for one, and hanbin personally thinks that the thigh highs bring it to a whole other level.

bobby quirks one eyebrow and says nothing, and it still has hanbin scrambling to explain himself.

“i stole it for - it was for me,” he says, blushing furiously at how incriminating it is to admit that.

“i stole this for you,” bobby insists.

“it’s different if you’re making fun of me,” hanbin says, frustrated, gripping the duvet hard enough he thinks for a second it might rip.

bobby laughs hoarsely and says, “i’m not making fun of you.”

he sounds earnest. hanbin believes him, or at least wants to, but he still doesn’t understand.

“you can keep them,” bobby speaks when hanbin stays silent. “as long as you do something for me in return.”

he should turn the offer down. it’ll be something like doing bobby’s laundry, or going out in the corridor wearing it, or something else humiliating and painful and awful. bobby can claim he isn’t taking the piss but he must be.

and yet hanbin still wants the skirt.

“... what do you want me to do?” he asks, cautious.

“put it on and let me blow you.”

when they’re back in korea hanbin is going to go and get his ears checked out.

“let you _what_?” he hears himself squeak. he pulls a loose thread out of the duvet cover and twists it between his fingers.

“blow you. let me,” bobby says again, though, and he’s blushing and this can’t be real life. “you can wear the skirt. and the socks.”

hanbin’s mind shuts down for a second, and when it reboots all he can think of to say is, “what’s in it for you?”

“i just want to,” bobby answers almost defensively. he shifts on his feet and doesn’t look even half as cocky as he had five minutes ago.

this is a really bad idea.

“okay,” hanbin agrees.

bobby’s eyes light up and he bounces forwards, dropping the skirt and socks into hanbin’s lap and then looking at him expectantly.

“wh- you can’t watch me get dressed!” hanbin splutters.

“go in the bathroom,” bobby says, undeterred.

hanbin feels like arguing, like saying _no, actually_ , and just stealing the clothes from bobby.

he stands up, clutching the skirt to his chest, and makes a beeline for the bathroom without sparing another glance at bobby.

close the door. lock it.

place the skirt and the stockings on the counter - smooth them out in case they’re wrinkled.

sit on the toilet seat with your head in your hands and panic for twenty seconds.

he exhales slowly, and stands back up. hanbin pulls his trousers off and folds them as best he can. he starts to take his t-shirt off and then realises he’d be shirtless and pulls it back down.

before he can chicken out hanbin picks up the skirt and steps into it. it’s not the same one he was wearing earlier; this one is plaid, not plain, and hanbin won’t say it but he’s glad bobby took this one instead.

he tucks the shirt in this time. when he does up the side zip and turns to look in the mirror his own silhouette almost confuses him. tight at the waist, making it look like his hips aren’t so skinny. no skirt will ever flare out enough to balance with how wide hanbin’s shoulders are but this is still… good. it’s nice. it’s pretty. hanbin hopes bobby will think it’s pretty.

and then he can’t procrastinate anymore, and hanbin sits back down on the toilet seat so he can pull the stockings on.

soft as they were four hours ago. there’s a ladder at the top of the one he pulls up on his left leg and it makes him frown, but he twists it so it’s at the back of his leg and this time when he looks in the mirror he gulps hard.

“bobby, i can’t,” hanbin calls out, unable to look away from his own reflection.

“hanbinnie,” bobby says. “i won’t laugh.”

“you laughed last time,” hanbin retorts and wishes he sounded angry rather than desperate.

“not tonight. i promise.”

and hanbin knows bobby and has for so many years, and he loves him, so he decides to trust him.

when hanbin steps back into the hotel room he feels like he might be sick. bobby is sitting on the bed, cross-legged, and he makes no move to come closer. hanbin is grateful for that.

“i, uh, my t-shirt doesn’t really match,” hanbin says to fill the silence. he wants to tug the hem down, hands feeling itchy with nothing to hold onto, but doesn’t for fear of ruining the illusion.

“it suits you,” bobby says. hanbin watches bobby watching him. “you look nice.”

it’s not the word hanbin wants to hear most but it’ll do.

he shifts on his feet awkwardly and feels the skirt sway, the perfect pleats of it mesmerising.

hanbin says nothing, and bobby gets up off the bed slowly. he walks towards hanbin slowly, too, and when hanbin steps back until his back hits the wall it’s a perfect mirror of the last time.

now, though, when bobby is so close to hanbin that he’s about to go cross-eyed he drops to his knees.

and he had said this is what he wanted but hanbin still didn’t really expect it, and he gasps out, “what - get up!”

bobby looks up at hanbin, unmoving, asks, “do you really not want me to?”

any answer hanbin gives will give him away entirely. the sight of bobby on his knees is dizzying.

they know each other. bobby gives hanbin ten seconds of agonising silence, and when he gets no objection he brings both of his hands up and takes hold of hanbin’s thighs, right above where the stockings end.

his palms are rough - hanbin knows bobby has never moisturised in his life - and hanbin’s breath is already coming quicker. bobby slides them down rather than up and his hands feel soft through the material of the socks, light touches that have hanbin shivering above him.

one hand goes down as low as hanbin’s ankle, bobby’s thumb brushing over the bone, and hanbin is so distracted by it that he almost misses the way bobby leans in, still so slowly, and presses a kiss to hanbin’s thigh, just above his knee.

“you okay?” he asks.

hanbin nods, probably too frantically.

the next kiss is higher up, and then a little more, and then bobby kisses the bare skin right above where the band of the stocking digs in and hanbin’s inhale is broken and raw. the skirt is in the way, obscuring hanbin’s vision, and he can see the top of bobby’s head but not what he’s doing. he realises bobby can see everything, though, including hanbin’s hard-on in his underwear, and he feels himself blush at that.

“you don’t have to,” hanbin blurts out. he reaches out and grabs bobby by the hair to pull him away, suddenly so guilty.

“hanbinnie,” bobby says, voice so soft even though his hands are still resting on hanbin’s bare legs. “i’m the one who asked.”

“i know,” hanbin says, defensive, unable to articulate why he feels like he’s taking advantage here.

“so, _you_ don’t have to. but i want to. if you’ll let me.”

hanbin takes one more moment to think about it, and then says, “okay,” again.

bobby nods, ducks his head back under the skirt, and doesn’t give hanbin anymore time to doubt anything because he presses his mouth, open and hot, against the outline of hanbin’s cock in his briefs.

“jesus christ, fucking- _hyung_ ,” hanbin whines. he’s gone from nervous and afraid to turned on so fast he doesn’t know what to do with himself, the hand that was resting in bobby’s hair twisting into it just to have something to hold.

bobby licks over the head, making the damp spot that was already there even worse, and hanbin shudders at the drag of fabric and hot breath. he pulls back and hanbin thinks there’ll be respite but bobby just says, “do you always get wet like this?”

the noise hanbin makes is humiliating and he doesn’t stop it in time.

“yes, then,” bobby says, smug, and tugs hanbin’s underwear down. he pulls them down to hanbin’s ankles, makes him step out of them so that he won’t trip, and hanbin can’t stop trembling.

he’s expecting more teasing and jumps when he gets bobby’s hand wrapping around the base of his cock and bobby’s mouth sinking down on him. hot, slick, a little clumsy but bobby is moaning after a second, and hanbin has no idea how he’s even in this situation but it feels so good he doesn’t care.

hanbin still can’t see anything, only the way bobby’s head is moving, and it’s almost more obscene. his toes curl into the carpet and he pulls on bobby’s hair except that makes bobby moan again and then hanbin is crying out at the vibration, his other hand pressed against the wall to try and keep from falling over.

he’s usually silent when he gets off - they have their own rooms now but he’s used to it after so many years in a shared bedroom - but right now hanbin _wants_ to be loud. he’s too embarrassed to, but he wants to make noise. he wants bobby to know how good it feels.

bobby pulls off but moves his hand faster and that does have hanbin choking on his breath, a little _ah_ escaping him louder than he had meant for it to.

“hyung, i’m going to- i’ll come,” hanbin says, blushing even more than he had been already at having to admit it so soon.

“really?” bobby says, sounding genuinely surprised. he pauses his movements and then pulls back entirely, standing up.

hanbin can’t look him in the eye but he’s so tense he feels like his whole body is is going to explode, and he sags back against the wall in relief when bobby takes hanbin in his hand again and keeps jerking him off.

he leans in closer too, though, until his mouth is right up against hanbin’s ear and his breath has hanbin shivering and he says, “you do look pretty like this, you know.”

“please,” falls from hanbin’s lips, not sure what he’s asking for when he’s already been given everything he wanted.

“you gonna come twice?” bobby says. hanbin hadn’t expected that.

“i- what? i can’t,” he breathes. he can’t keep from fucking up into bobby’s fist, either.

“no?” bobby says, taunting, voice low. “you can’t be good for me?”

hanbin feels like he’s barely following the conversation, and he loses his grip on reality even more when bobby’s other hand slips under the skirt and back and he rests his fingers on hanbin’s ass. he doesn’t grab him, doesn’t make to do anything other than press into the skin and make hanbin’s breath come that little bit less steady.

hanbin says, “no, i can be good.”

“i know you can,” bobby says, almost patronising, and his hand slides down from hanbin’s ass to the top of the stocking. the tips of his fingers slip underneath the hem, stretching it away from hanbin’s skin, and when bobby pulls back and the fabric snaps against the skin on the inside of hanbin’s thigh hanbin stops breathing and comes all over bobby’s hand.

bobby strokes him through it, and then keeps going, and doesn’t stop, and hanbin realises that he was serious.

“hyung,” hanbin gasps, his knees shaking. his body feels electric, raw, and every second it gets better-worse. he wants nothing more than for bobby to stop and yet he would never ask him to.

“one more, yeah?” bobby says. it’s unfair of him to sound so collected when hanbin feels like his body might explode at any second. bobby smiles, though, and he’s still jacking hanbin off but he slows down just a little (and that’s worse, worst, because hanbin can feel everything even more) and his free hand moves to cup hanbin’s cheek. “a good girl would let me.”

hanbin makes his loudest sound yet, more like a sob than anything else. how does bobby know exactly what hanbin wants to hear before hanbin knows himself?

he can’t hold back anymore, unable to keep his hands at his sides doing nothing: one arm comes up and wraps around bobby’s waist the way hanbin always does it, pulling him in. bobby moves with it instead of pulling away the way he would if they were in public and hanbin is grateful, because he doesn’t know if his legs are going to hold him up much longer.

“cute,” bobby says, still speaking into hanbin’s ear, still touching him the same way.

it hurts, every stroke of bobby’s hand sends pain shooting through hanbin’s body, and he hadn’t even had a chance to go soft. it’s good, though, somehow, despite that not making sense, and hanbin hisses through his teeth at the pain even as he fucks into bobby’s hand when it’s too slow.

he has to take everything he can get. if bobby wants him to come twice he will, because bobby said it would mean he’s good and he wants to make bobby happy and this will never happen again so how could he complain about any aspect of it.

hanbin spreads his legs wider (shamefully, desperately, out of his mind) and whines when he realises his thigh is pressed up against the crotch of bobby’s jeans and he can feel him.

“want it,” hanbin says before he can think, blushing under bobby’s eyes.

“you want what?” bobby asks. “more? you want more than i’m already giving you?”

hanbin shakes his head _no_ , but bobby continues, “are you that greedy?”

“no,” hanbin manages aloud this time. “no, i’m good.”

punishment or reward, hanbin doesn’t know, but bobby twists his hand around the head of hanbin’s cock and gets him writhing and breathless.

“you want me to fuck you,” bobby says, so sure of himself always. he has every reason to be, at least this time - hanbin can’t stop thinking about it.

he can’t deny it, either, and it makes bobby laugh.

“you want it here,” he says, and hanbin has no idea when bobby’s other hand moved but he presses the tips of two fingers flat over hanbin’s hole, dry, and hanbin shouts.

“you would let me, wouldn’t you?”

hanbin thinks he feels a tear escape the corner of his eye just as he admits, “yes.”

“next time,” bobby says, not a promise but it feels like one. the words shock hanbin to the core and he can’t hold back his moan when bobby thumbs at the head of his cock, too loud and high-pitched and embarrassing.

bobby ducks his head a little and kisses just below hanbin’s earlobe, whispers, “good boy,” and hanbin’s head spins from the contrast and he feels like he’s going to black out when he comes for the second time tonight.

he shakes through it, panting, and it feels better than the first one and leaves hanbin feeling like jelly. bobby keeps his dirtied hand held awkwardly in the air but uses the other to hold hanbin close until he’s done.

hanbin won’t look bobby in the eye, but he snorts when bobby grins and says, “i’m gonna go and wash my hands.”

without bobby in the room it seems too quiet. what they just did echoes around him. hanbin wants to pull his underwear on and run away but instead he stays leaning against the wall, feeling how stiff his knees are, and when bobby comes back a minute later hanbin meets his gaze and waits.

bobby steps into hanbin’s space once more and brings both hands up to hold hanbin’s face - hanbin almost asks if bobby had definitely washed his hands well enough but then he thinks he might get a kiss and he wonders if his lips are chapped because it’s been a while since he’d put on any chapstick and he doesn’t - bobby pulls hanbin into a hug, tight and warm and hanbin hugs him back without a second thought.

“you should shower,” bobby says.

hanbin squeezes him tight around the waist before he lets go, because bobby doesn’t let hanbin hug him often let alone instigate, and nods.

he sits on the floor of the shower. the hotel body wash smells nice even though the shampoo feels a bit drying, and hanbin uses a palmful of conditioner so that he won’t get in trouble with the coordis tomorrow.

the skirt and stockings are on the counter along with hanbin’s jeans, now. the skirt is clean somehow. hanbin won’t thank bobby for that but he’s pleased, secretly.

stepping back into the room is worse than it had been earlier. bobby is sat on the bed the same way he had been, and he averts his eyes when he sees hanbin only has a towel around his waist.

it would be weird to go back into the bathroom: hanbin changes into new boxers and a tank top the way he would have before this, even if he does keep the towel held up as a barrier.

hanbin is trying to decide whether he should get into the other bed or escape to someone else’s room when bobby shuffles under the covers of the bed he was sitting on and says, “come here.”

he wouldn’t say he’s someone who does what he’s told, but - but it’s bobby, and hanbin is feeling bone-deep tired, so he slips under the duvet bobby is holding up and lies down next to him.

bobby smiles and hanbin feels like he made the right choice.

“hanbinnie,” bobby says. “hanbinnie, my hanbinnie.”

it makes hanbin flush red, being babied like this. despite himself, he lets bobby tug him closer and into bobby’s arms until his back is to bobby’s chest and bobby is running his fingers through hanbin’s towel-dried hair.

it’s embarrassing but it helps. he hadn’t realised how fast his heart had been beating until it slows down, how frantic his breathing had been until it isn’t anymore.

hanbin has a lot of questions ( _what was that?_ or _when is next time?_ or _was it me or was it just the skirt?_ ).

bobby says, “goodnight, hanbinnie,” and lets his arm lie over hanbin’s stomach, and kisses him just once on the shoulder blade over what hanbin thinks is the yellow balloon in his tattoo.

and hanbin trusts bobby, and he loves him, so he says back, “goodnight, hyung.”

in the morning, hanbin folds up the skirt and hides it in his suitcase under his socks and notebook, and bobby smiles at him.

**Author's Note:**

> if you read this full thing i am confused and grateful.
> 
> this is what i like to call femboy fic number 1. there will be More.


End file.
